Page 86 of Arrogant Bastard

“The only way to do that is to integrate you—temporarily”—Fionnella adds hastily when Killian whirls around from where he’s standing gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window of his Malibu mansion—“into the agency again. We will do it under the guise of you getting your long-overdue debrief, followed by you taking your official exit protocol tests. We’ll drop a few hints that you two are planning a long absence with destination unknown. The forty-eight hours have passed. Galveston knows by now that you’re not going to pay the money. Hopefully that will light a fire under the mole’s ass.”

“And then what?” Killian bites out, his folded arms bulging with his restlessness.

Fionnella looks around at the vast property that sits on its own wide bluff in Malibu. The nearest property is a quarter of a mile away, and every imaginable measure has been taken throughout the mansion to ensure my safety, with Mitch and Linc managing a staggering team of fierce-looking mercenaries around the clock.

“You’re not exactly sitting ducks in this house, so I doubt he’ll make a move here. If we feed him the information that you’ll be heading overseas soon, he’ll most likely choose then to make his move. But it won’t come to that. We’ve developed a slightly more sophisticated way of placing digital bread crumbs on the agency’s system. We’ll find whoever it is before the information gets to Galveston, son. Trust me.”

Killian’s tension doesn’t ease even a fraction. I rise from the sofa and walk over to slide my arms around his waist. He immediately pulls me closer, brushing his lips over my cheek and then the corner of my mouth. My reassuring smile pulls a deep exhale from him before he redirects his attention to Fionnella.

“When does all this bullshit start?” he asks.

Fionnella smiles and swipes a finger across an ancient-looking tablet. “Tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. You have an appointment with one of our specialists. You’ll be there for a few hours. A car will pick you up at—”

“No, I’ll bring her myself,” he says.

The older woman’s lips purse, but then she wisely nods. She’s gotten what she wants, and she knows not to push the issue. “Okay.”

Fionnella slants a glance at me. One I hold for a second before I let my gaze slide away. I’m not ready to answer the questions she’s silently shouting at me.

We walk her to the door, and she gives us another blinding smile before she walks out and climbs into the SUV that looks like it can withstand a nuclear bomb.

Killian doesn’t hold back when he slams the door behind her. “I don’t like this,” he breathes against my neck.

“I know.”

“The variables are too many. I hate gambling your safety on possibles and maybes. It’s ten kinds of fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“Stop trying to humor me.”

“Okay.”

We stay like that for a minute. Until his hands tighten convulsively on my waist. “Fuck, I want to throw you into the chopper and head for Van Nuys right now. We could be in the fucking Amazon jungle by morning. Or a cave in Iceland. Let me buy you a cave in Iceland? You won’t need any clothes. I’d drape you in bearskin rugs to keep you warm, but you’ll be naked underneath. Naked, and all mine,” he croons against my ear.

A decadent shiver runs through me. “I’ll think about it. But after we do this. Okay?”

“Dammit. I can’t deny you anything. You know that.”

I drag my fingers across his tense torso, reveling in the shiver that ripples through him. “I think I’ll go for a swim. Join me?”

I’m trying to take his mind off tomorrow, and he knows it. “That depends.”

I peer at him through my bangs and blink innocently. “On?”

“Indoor pool or outside?” he asks with a definite husk to his voice.

“You choose.”

Fierce blue eyes scour my face, my breasts, my legs. “Indoors. Meet you there in five minutes?”

I nod. He takes a few extra moments to release me. I strut away with a sexy sway I perfected for the Punishment Club, knowing his attention is riveted to my body. I’m not proud of myself. For the last two days, I’ve relied on sex to delay the inevitable and to cope with what’s happening. Sex with an edge of desperation on my part, and of worry on his part, sure, but sublime, heart-wrenching sex nevertheless.

I walk through the stupidly large, marble-floored living room, my gaze sweeping over the incredible views of the ocean.

The first time I saw the spectacular mansion, I jokingly called it his Iron Man house. Killian’s boyish grin told me that was the exact reaction he’d wanted. Turns out Tony Stark is secretly my genius lover’s favorite comic hero. Go figure.

I hurry along a wide, glass-bordered hallway into the massive master bedroom. The California king is rumpled from our activities before, and with Debbie, Killian’s housekeeper, having been given the day off, it’s going to stay that way till tomorrow. I smile as I pick up his discarded T-shirt from the floor on the way to the dressing room, that little act of taking care of him lifting my heart.

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